


hold my hand in yours (and we will not fear what hands like ours can do)

by light_loves_the_dark



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Also He's A Bit of A Jerk Sorry, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because I Needed to Read It lmao, Cal Being A Bestie, Character A Thinks Character B is Dead, Control Issues, Emotional Sex, Eve and Flynn Have Sex All the Time and It Needs More Acknowledgment, Ezekiel Jones Deserves an Apology and I Promise He Gets It, F/M, Flynn Just Wants To Call Eve His Wife, Have You Seen The Silver Screen, He's Just Got Some Issues, Human Disaster Flynn Carsen, I know, Jenkins Being Perceptive, Mission Gone Wrong, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Post Finale, Post-Season/Series 04, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Eve Baird, Romance, Sensory Deprivation, Smut, Without A Courthouse, just saying, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22887634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/light_loves_the_dark/pseuds/light_loves_the_dark
Summary: “This world without the Library,” Jenkins muses, “it was… gray? Difficult on the senses?”Eve shudders at the memory. “It was like… there was nothing to feel - to experience. No colors or tastes - even the sounds were muted. Thoughts of the Library were all that made me… me.”Jenkins exhales. “Colonel, you were in this world for only several days?” Eve nods. He looks down at her arm, busy tying off the bandage. “Eve,” he says gently, “Mr. Carsen was there for far longer.”-aka the one where flynn is suffering from ptsd after nicole's treatment, and when eve gets hurt, the thread holding him together snaps
Relationships: Eve Baird/Flynn Carsen
Comments: 27
Kudos: 79





	hold my hand in yours (and we will not fear what hands like ours can do)

**Author's Note:**

> well. it's been 13 years since i started writing, and it took that long and this show for me to break down and write smut. so. hopefully no one i know reads this. 
> 
> inspired by that silent moment when flynn took eve’s hand in his when jenkins was giving nicole his immortality (aka the moment that, when i rewatched, made me mad at myself that i could ever believe flynn would willingly leave eve just bc nicole whispered something in his ear.)
> 
> also inspired by how horny these two are for each other and yet there’s barely anything x-rated in this fandom?? so y’all are making me go somewhere i’ve never gone before. also flynn carsen talks constantly during sex don't @me
> 
> if the tags on this worry you, feel free to come talk to me @queeenpersephone on tumblr and i can give you details about anything that might be a trigger!

_ Scream in unison, we will ascend _

_ to death or love, to say in song what we shall do. _

_ Our cry will shoot afar so _

_ this new weakness, awful doubt, _

_ will pass through you. _

_ Stay … Let us ascend as one. _

_ \- Epic of Gilgamesh, unknown _

Flynn and Eve are a tactile couple.

They were tactile before they even became friends, on that first mission, hands connecting and shoulders pressing together without thought. When she had kissed him the first time, it had felt so much like coming home that, despite occasional fights and generally being on opposite sides of the world, they had never really turned back.

After they saved the Loom of Fate, they had fallen into bed relatively quickly and often. Mostly through Flynn’s orchestration, because whenever she shows him the slightest sign of affection, he will find a way for them to be alone. Her favorite memory of this behavior: when the whole team had been on a mission together, early on, and Flynn had said something so sweet that she had pulled him out of view and brushed a gentle kiss over his cheek.

After a deep exhale, taking a moment to let his dark eyes sweep her form, he had strode back in the temple. Two minutes later, he had solved the entire mystery of the missing villagers, hauled her through a Door before slamming it in the other Librarians’ faces, and pulled her deep into the Library, dropping to his knees and going down on her between the shelves. 

She’s pretty sure that’s when the others had figured out that they were a couple.

Sex with Flynn has always been exciting and fun; he always satisfies her, but more often than not, it takes a while to get there. He gets lost in his head, babbling about history and anatomy between compliments as he kisses every line and crevice of her body, both of them giggling and teasing until she flips him over and takes control. And to his credit, he always cedes it when she wants it, gazing up at her like he can’t believe she’s real, holding her hips loosely. Not guiding, just… present. Occasionally, she’s at his mercy, but she suspects he likes it better when she’s in control. 

At first this is a novelty. The men she’s dated have always wanted to control her, holding her down to assert some deeply embedded idea of male dominance. She loves the way Flynn lets her arrange him to her liking. The way he’s comfortable enough to steal kisses and pull her into him when he’s in the mood, yet still take a step back once she meets him there. And okay, sometimes she just wants to let go and let him do all of the work, but overall, she’s happy and can’t complain. Not when everything else is so perfect. 

Well, as perfect as it can get for two people who have a higher calling to a mystical institution where they regularly get shot at and stabbed.

When the timeline restarts, once they’ve been tethered together, Flynn begins to act strangely. Eve chalks it up to readjustment and doesn’t think about it too much; he’s present, he’s thoughtful, and they’re busy drawing up plans to handle the same cases that arose in the other timeline. 

So just another Tuesday. 

When Flynn makes his excuses instead of following her to bed, red circles lining his eyes, she’s so exhausted herself that she doesn’t think much of it. Flynn and she usually sleep together after these kinds of missions. It’s a way to reaffirm their bond and seek comfort in the arms of someone they trust. 

When it happens again the next night, he brushes off her worried looks and she finds him dozing at their desk the next morning. Not for the first time, she wonders how similar tethering is to marriage. Do they get a honeymoon? Is he waiting until things are settled to whisk her away somewhere so they can be alone? Maybe it’s been too long for them to just fall into bed together. Maybe he wants to have her all to himself, somewhere they can’t be interrupted, or maybe they have too much to talk about.

Deciding this is likely, she lets him alone when he shakes his head when she tries to pull him up the stairs into their apartment. It’s okay. They have plenty of time. 

And that’s her only excuse for not realizing how bad things are. 

-

It all comes to a head in the wake of her second mission after they’ve tethered.

The first had been a run of the mill artifact retrieval. The whole team had gone, the Library sending them all together like it knew that Flynn and Eve didn’t want to let any of their charges, nor each other, out of their sight. In fact, Flynn had barely left her side at all, content to watch the other Librarians scurry around in a way that he never had before. She had thought it was a product of being tethered, a new sense of purpose and calm, a peace with not being the center of attention. 

She had been dead wrong. 

The second mission appears only to Ezekiel and her - a recon mission to the recently-quiet Serpent Brotherhood headquarters to make sure there’s no burgeoning activity. Cassandra is in Florida checking up on some mysterious happenings at NASA, and the rest of them are pursuing their independent research projects.

Despite Ezekiel’s book only requiring his and her talents, Flynn’s tone brooks no argument when he tells her that Jake and he are coming with them. They have no pressing commitments, so Eve just shrugs, and they prepare to leave when the clipping book starts flapping.

“Mysterious Egyptian artifact unearthed at a paleontology dig in South California,” Jake reads. 

Flynn spins, excitement and curiosity evident as he bounces on his toes. “What’s an  _ Egyptian _ artifact doing- uh,” He abruptly cuts himself off, heels planted back on the ground, leaving the rest of them hanging. After a moment, he clears his throat and nods at Jake. “Sounds like it’s for you,” he observes, much more subdued. “Call if you have trouble,” he adds, about to herd Ezekiel and Eve through the Door. 

Eve stops short. Flynn, turning down a chance to exercise his PhD in Egyptology? The one she’s always suspected is his favorite? She doesn’t think so. “Wait, that sounds  _ way _ more like you than Stone,” she says. “You should go with him,” she concludes, holding out an arm to block him when he continues towards the Door. 

“It’s not even in my book,” Jake adds, said book open in his hands. 

Flynn ignores him. “Eve,” he begins, an uncharacteristic tension in his shoulders that makes her brow furrow. He opens his mouth to continue, but she takes one look at their curious audience and pulls him into the hallway.

“Are you okay?” She asks, straightforward. With no honeymoon plans on the horizon, the nervous feeling in her gut is finally beginning to grow. “Because you’ve been acting weird since the tethering. Even for you.” 

Flynn sputters. “Yes - I - I’m fine,” he emphasizes. 

_ At least he’s a bad actor _ , she thinks. “You’re clearly not,” she retorts. “Flynn, you’ve barely left me alone during the day, but you haven’t been coming to bed at night. You look tired - tense…” she trails off, a horrifying thought striking her. She raises her eyes to his, a deep concern etched in her expression. “You’re not having… doubts again, are you? About the tethering?”

Flynn audibly gasps, stepping into her space and moving to take her face in his hands, though he ends up just hovering them half an inch from her skin. “No, Eve. Never. It was perfect. It  _ is _ perfect. Being with you forever is all I want.” He is clearly in earnest, and the terror leaves her, but there is still something hovering below the surface. Something bothering him that she wants to poke awake and talk through. She opens her mouth to respond, but she is cut off by a call from the Annex.

“Baird, Jenkins has the Door up and my book is getting antsy!” Ezekiel calls.

Eve sighs. “You go with Stone,” she tells him. “But this conversation is not over.”

Flynn bristles. “I’m the Librarian,” he retorts, “I’ll go wherever I please.”

Eve just gives him an exasperated look. “Flynn, we divide and conquer when we have to. It’s what we’ve always done.” She squeezes his shoulder, and he flinches, changing his approach to give her desperate puppy-dog eyes. 

“ _ Eve- _ ” he responds, the wide eyes giving off more panic than usual. 

Eve ignores the pit in her stomach that’s telling her that leaving him right now is a bad idea, cutting off whatever it is he had been about to say. “It’s just recon. We’ll talk tonight, okay? Order takeout.” She pulls him in and kisses his open mouth; he doesn’t relax into her like he usually does, but she has to leave it for now. They have a job to do. “See you soon.”

She releases him, walking back into the Annex. The Door is open, and Ezekiel grins at her. “Ready to give these bastards a good scare?”

Eve rolls her eyes. “Recon, Jones. The whole point is that they never find out we were there.”

Ezekiel pouts, but strides through the door regardless. Eve makes to do the same when a hand catches in hers. The feeling of his warm fingers makes her realize it’s been days since he’s touched her, and she reflexively squeezes.

“Flynn-”

His expression is serious. Too serious. “Come back alive, Guardian,” he says, but it comes out like a warning, not like their usual teasing. Like  _ come back alive, or else _ . She doesn’t know what to make of it, so she says it back to him and squeezes his hand, disappearing through the Door.

-

The Serpent Brotherhood somehow knew that they were coming. Which is why, several hours into their mission, she finds herself in the position of regretting turning down Flynn’s help. 

She keeps Ezekiel behind her as she fights off the henchmen, who of course are using swords. She has already picked up one belonging to someone she already knocked out, her meager sword-fighting experience serving just well enough to keep them alive. “Jones, call Jenkins!” She commands. 

“I already did,” he responds, and she can hear him working the keypad behind her. “This door is preprogrammed to only let one person through at once,” he adds, tension clear in his voice. “There’s a ten minute interval." 

“I’ll fight them off,” she grunts, roundhouse kicking two men, who collapse at her feet. “Find another door. You go now.” 

More men rush through the entrance to the room. The Door clicks open, lighting up blue.

“Baird, I can’t-” Ezekiel is saying.

Just then, two blades swing at her. She can only block one, trying to shift to create the most ideal injury possible. She pulls her arm in, blocking her chest.

She is successful, but the henchman easily lands the hit to her arm, and though it’s deeper than she’s like, it’s in no way debilitating. She still cries out; she can’t help it.

“Eve!” Ezekiel shouts. He couldn’t have seen the position of her arm. She knows how bad that must have looked from behind. But her mind is in protection mode. She doesn’t think, kicking back hard and using that force to knock him through the Door, which slams shut once he’s through.

Without a Librarian to worry about, she moves away from where she had been protecting her charge. She lunges for her gun, which she had lost early on in the fight and luckily hadn’t been picked up. Once it is in her hands, she manages to subdue her opponents in about five minutes. 

She sprints out of the room, evading and maneuvering around the building for another twenty minutes, trying to lose any pursuers so she has time to pull out her phone. Finally, she ducks into a corner and presses one on her speed dial. It only rings once before Jenkins picks up. 

For some reason, he sounds guarded. “Who is this?” He demands tersely. 

“Me, Jenkins!” She half screams into the phone. “Door, now!”

She hears a sharp inhale and the sound of the globe mechanism through the phone. A janitor’s closet glows several feet away, and she stumbles toward it, ignoring the pain in her arm. Seconds later, she is falling into the Annex. 

“Baird!” 

It’s Jake who catches her, lowering her slowly to the ground. Jenkins is at her other side in a flash, holding her upper arm in his hands. 

“It’s fine,” she says tiredly. “I’m okay.” 

Jenkins inspects her arm for a long moment before nodding. “You’re right - the wound is not particularly deep." He sighs. “It’s also not ‘fine’. You’ve lost quite a bit of blood, but you shouldn’t feel the effects too horribly.”

“Bet it hurts to holy hell, though, huh?” Jake says, hauling her to her feet. “Let’s get you bandaged up.”

“Ezekiel?” She asks.

Jenkins looks sober as he releases her arm. “He was very worried about you, Colonel. He wasn’t sure… what he saw. Came through the Door in a panic.”

Eve narrows her eyes at them both. “What are you not telling me?” She pauses for a moment before giving Jake a questioning look. “Wait, if you’re back - where’s Flynn?”

Jenkins clears his throat. “He was here - when Mr. Jones returned.” 

Eve’s eyes widen. “What did Ezekiel think he saw?” She asks sharply, and from the way neither of them can meet her eyes, she knows she’s asked the right question. “What did he tell Flynn?” She adds, a waver to her voice that she doesn’t have the strength to hide. 

_ Come back alive, Guardian,  _ he had asked. It’s a promise she never wants to break. 

Jenkins sighs, still avoiding her eyes. He turns to Jake. “Mr. Stone, if you could retrieve Mr. Carsen, I would be forever grateful.” Stone gives him a look, like he knows Jenkins is trying to get rid of him, but disappears into the hall nonetheless. Jenkins finally turns to her, eyes apologetic. “Colonel, I know you’re concerned, but I need you to focus for a moment. You told me that you and Mr. Carsen have lived through an alternate timeline, yes?”

Eve nods as he helps her to lean against the edge of her desk before reaching for the emergency medical supplies. “And in this timeline, Ms. Noone, his first Guardian, had been corrupted?” He clarifies.

Eve nods again as he pulls out the cotton balls. “Flynn and I remember everything,” she tells him, “but we decided after the tethering there’s not much to share. Nicole is a friend of the Library now. We didn’t want to go into details with you all because we don’t want to change your perception of her.” Eve takes a moment to think about the good person she had always seen in Nicole, even when she had been plotting against them. “She deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

Jenkins is quiet for a moment as he rubs antiseptic into her wound. She flinches a little, but she’s had worse. “If it’s not too much to ask, I would like to hear some of the details,” he says finally. “I swear my reasons are true.”

Eve studies him for a moment, but this is Jenkins. With the exception of Flynn, there is literally no one she trusts more. “Okay,” she agrees, “ask me anything.” She lets him question her, telling him a little about the events in the other world. She leaves out a lot - Jenkins losing his immortality, his rift with Flynn, but she gives him the highlights.

When she is finished, he looks thoughtful. “This world without the Library,” he muses, “it was… gray? Difficult on the senses?”

Eve shudders at the memory. “It was like… there was nothing to feel - to experience. No colors or tastes - even the sounds were muted. Thoughts of the Library were all that made me… me.” 

Jenkins exhales. “I see,” he says, his voice heavy with meaning. 

Eve furrows her brow. “What do you see?”

“Colonel, you were in this world for only several days?” Eve nods. He looks down at her arm, busy tying off the bandage. “Eve,” he says gently, “Mr. Carsen was there for far longer.”

Eve shuts her eyes against what his words are implying, horror seeping through her veins. 

Jenkins is quick to add: “have you noticed any changes with him after you changed the timeline? List them for me, please.”

Eve appreciates how he keeps her focused and in the moment when all she wants to do is wallow in guilt about not realizing Flynn’s predicament sooner. “He hasn’t been… touching me,” she says slowly. “Hovering, close by - but not touching like he usually does. He’s been quiet - watchful - he won’t come to bed.” She cuts herself off, blinking back tears as a lump rises in her throat. “And I’ve been - oh God-”

Jenkins shakes his head. “You have been through quite a lot as well, Colonel. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Eve rubs her eyes, ignoring the pull of her arm. “I’m a soldier. I’ve seen hundreds of cases of PTSD - and yet, when it’s my Librarian, I’m blind. I’m his  _ Guardian _ .” Her voice breaks. “He tried to tell me - he didn’t want me to leave…” 

“I suspect Mr. Carsen is experiencing a reawakening of his sensory capacities - an overload, if you will. If he’s avoiding eating, touching, sleeping - these are all situations where we are vulnerable to our senses. You will have to force him to confront whatever is bothering him.” 

“What’s taking Stone so long?” She asks, casting a worried look at the doors to the hall. 

Jenkins clears his throat. “I might have sent him away on false pretenses. We - ah - when Ezekiel came through the Door yelling about your condition, well -” 

She narrows her eyes. “Jenkins, what did you do?” She asks, a low warning in her tone. 

“He was about to run through the Door after you - right into the fray. Colonel, you couldn’t imagine… he was out of his mind.” He trails off, a very unsettled expression on his face that makes it difficult for her to be upset with him. Jenkins is relatively unflappable; if he is uneasy, it must have been worse than she can imagine. “Excalibur knocked him out before he could get very far.”

The anger comes back with a vengeance, and Eve jumps to her feet. “You should have led with that!” She whispers furiously. “Cal!” She shouts, and the sword zooms to float before her, somehow looking regretful. “It’s alright,” she says, softer. “But tomorrow, you apologize.”

The sword bobs up and down before motioning for her to follow.

They are halfway to the lab when they begin to hear the shouts.

“What the hell happened? Wait, where is my - where is Eve? Is she - I swear to the Library, Stone, if you don’t get out of my way-”

The staggering amount of anger in her Librarian’s voice spurs her into a sprint, Cal and Jenkins at her heels. 

“Flynn, buddy, she’s okay. Calm down - she’s fine, you were there when she became immortal! I saw her-”

“ _ Liar _ ,” Flynn snarls. “You heard Jones - you  _ saw _ him. What if the tethering didn’t - what if she’s-  _ move, now _ .” 

“Flynn!” Eve shouts as she turns the corner into the lab. Flynn is crowded up against the missed cot in the corner, Stone blocking him from the door. 

When he hears her voice, Flynn stumbles back against the cot, immediately bringing his hands up to cover his eyes. “I’m back,” he murmurs, shoulders up around his ears as he rubs his eyes. “I can hear her, I must be back…”

Jake backs up until he’s beside her, watching Flynn with wide eyes. “There’s something real wrong with him,” he tells her.

“Step back with Jenkins,” she tells him instead of responding, taking a few strides forward to sit next to Flynn.

“I’m here, Flynn. Ezekiel was wrong. It was just a little scratch.” She tries to be soothing, but he doesn’t look up at her.

Instead, he shakes his head in his hands. “No, Eve can’t be here - not like this. Not like me…” 

She wants so badly to touch him, but if he can’t even look at her, she’s not sure that’s the best idea. Then she gets an idea. “From the moment I saw you in that German steam tunnel,” she quotes, softly and slowly, “I’ve loved you.” His breath hitches, shoulders tensing as he listens, and she takes it as a sign to continue. “I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

There is a long pause, then: “more than anything you’ve ever learned?” He asks, a hesitant warmth to his voice that reminds her of hope.

She smiles, even though she knows he can’t see it. “Not sure that means to me what it means to you, but yes. More than learning itself.”

“ _ Eve _ ,” he breathes.

“Hi, Librarian,” she says fondly. “Okay?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” He asks.

“Not a chance.”

Flynn takes his hands from his eyes, trailing them up her body before focusing on her bandaged arm. He doesn’t look her in the eye, which is just as well, because she knows she’s on the verge of tears. “You were… hurt?”

She can’t respond, too pained at the way he looks. Like he could fall apart at any moment. “She’s perfectly fine, Mr. Carsen. I bandaged her up myself,” Jenkins responds for her, an uncharacteristic softness to his voice. Then he takes Jake by the shoulder and steers him out of the room. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” she suggests, getting her voice back.

Clearly Flynn isn’t there yet, because he just nods, sliding off the bed. He waits for her to join him standing before pacing toward the exit.

Just then, another familiar face comes barging into the room. “Baird,” Ezekiel sighs in relief, his gaze moving over her bandaged arm. He walks toward Flynn and her. “I thought-”

“I know, Ezekiel,” Eve says softly, but she doesn’t take her eyes off of Flynn. “I know, I’m sorry. Can we debrief later?”

Ezekiel stops in his tracks, offended and not a little hurt. “I just watched you get  _ stabbed _ ,” he argues, missing the way Flynn visibly flinches. “I think that I-” 

“Not now, Jones,” Flynn says, his tone short and crisp the way it is only when he lets his temper get the best of him. He twitches for a moment, thinking, before he grabs Eve’s hand and pulls her out of the room. Normally she’d be irritated at being yanked around, but after talking with Jenkins, she can’t imagine how much courage it took him just to touch her. She wants to be alone with him just as much as he needs to be alone with her.

Flynn pulls her into the Annex, making a beeline for the stairs. His hand is already trembling in hers. Ezekiel follows on their heels. “What do you mean ‘not now’?” He complains, but she can hear the quiver in his voice beneath the bravado. He must have been truly frightened when she pushed him through that Door, she thinks, and her heart goes out to him. “Do you have something better to do?”

Flynn spins on his heel, releasing Eve’s hand to stand in front of her, finally looking Ezekiel in the eye. “This is Guardian/Librarian business - it doesn’t concern you,” he says, shockingly cold.

Ezekiel gapes at him. “Did Cal hit you over the head too hard again? I am a Librarian! Baird is my Guardian too, you know!” 

Flynn looks furious. “And she is  _ my wife _ !” There is nothing about the words that are kind or warm. They are factual - like he’s spouting off an easy math equation. Two plus two equals four. Eve Baird, the Guardian, is Library-and-maybe-real married to Flynn Carsen, the Librarian. She shakes the thought out of her mind because Flynn is still speaking: “she is tethered to  _ me _ , and you told me she was  _ dead _ .”

With that accusation, the room itself goes dead. It feels like even the Library is holding its breath. Ezekiel’s mouth opens and closes, his shoulders slumping. When the thief has nothing to say, Flynn nods sharply. “That’s what I thought,” he says with a terrifying lack of sympathy, and Eve half wants to hold him and half wants to scream at him for putting such a dejected look on her Librarian’s face. 

“Flynn…” she trails off, a tired warning in her voice. 

Flynn shakes his head. When she steps closer to Ezekiel, he jumps back into action, taking her hand again and pulling her up the stairs and into their apartment. Once they’re inside, he slams the door, drops her hand, and leans against the wall, facing away from her. The fierce height and charisma, the familiar emotional armor he wears around nearly everyone, falls away as he uses the wall to hold himself up. 

“You shouldn’t have said that to him,” she says, angry, walking further into the main room and turning so she’s facing him. He still won’t look at her. “Flynn, that was cruel,” she tries again.

He exhales shakily. “I thought you were dead.” His voice breaks, and her anger fades into nothingness. “ _ That _ was more than cruel; it was torment.” Finally, he looks at her, and suddenly she understands why he couldn’t earlier. Something is fractured in him, and it is visible in the way he looks at her. However bad things are, Flynn hates being vulnerable in front of the other Librarians. No, he had to wait for them to be alone, in a safe space, before he could even begin to tell her what’s really going on. He clearly feels the same; in the blink of an eye, he is in her space, closer than he’d ever be around the others. “I can’t - I couldn’t -  _ Eve.. _ .”

“I’m right here,” she says, dropping the topic of Ezekiel for the moment. Though she will be making him apologize later, it’s not the most important thing right now. “I know you’ve been in pain,” she continues, actively suppressing the urge to touch him the way she usually does when he’s upset. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it. Whatever you need, I’m here.” 

Flynn’s eyes go from pleading to intense in seconds, and he reaches for her. Uncharacteristically, he wastes no time with kissing or foreplay. Instead, he goes straight for her bandana, which he unknots from her neck with two sharp, calculated movements before moving onto her shirt. 

She hadn’t really thought his answer would be sex, but she’s not going to complain. She’s needed this too, but she also doesn’t want to take advantage of his vulnerability. “Are you sure?” She asks, not stopping him but not helping him either.

“You asked me what I need,” he murmurs, already tugging her shirt from her shoulders. This single-minded focus on getting her naked is both rare and surprisingly hot, and she leans into him. “I need to feel you,” he says, desperate, his trembling hands smoothing down her arms as she kisses his neck. “I need to - stop that, Eve, stop - I need to focus -”

She pulls back. “You don’t want me to kiss you?” She asks, the same breathiness in her own voice, tugging at his clothing. Apparently he doesn’t want that either, because he takes a step back, gasping for air himself. 

“No touch,” he says, his voice half command and half plea. “ _ Please _ , Eve, just let me touch you.”

Eve stops. Oh.  _ Oh _ . 

This is different. 

Eve inhales deeply, exhaling her nerves and tension out. Flynn needs this. She has wanted this. She trusts him; he’s not like the others. 

“Where do you want me?” She asks quietly.

Flynn is still trembling, eyes shooting from her face to her wrapped arm, finally landing on the bedroom door. 

Eve nods. He doesn’t need to speak. “Okay,” she soothes. She walks for the door, Flynn so close behind her that she can feel the warmth emanating from him. 

“Would you - the bed?” Flynn stammers, his eyes dark and nervous. 

Eve manages a smile. “If you want me to do something,” she says hesitantly. “Just tell me. Trust me to tell you if it’s too much, okay?”

Flynn nods, something clicking in that big, beautiful brain of his. “Bed,” he says more firmly, and Eve makes to lie down.

“No,” Flynn says. “Just - sit please.”

She sits on the edge, waiting patiently. Flynn toes off his shoes and socks, shrugging off his jacket. Then he kneels before her. “No touch,” he reminds her - he knows her well enough to know that right now, if things were business as usual, she’d be pressing her hands to his shoulders, leaning down to kiss him. She nods in agreement, releasing a trembling exhale. “Is this… okay? You can say no,” he offers, though his expression is pained.

She can’t help the bright, fond smile that breaks across her lips. This man is a marvel - even when he’s suffering, even when she’s giving him permission to do whatever he wants to her, he still wants to know if she’s okay. “Perfect,” she tells him, revelling in the shaky smile he gives her in return. 

He reaches for her feet first, removing her simple black shoes and socks, running his thumb along her instep. He’s quiet, cautious - it’s so out of character that she has to focus on her breathing to stay in the moment. He runs his hands up and down her calves, short fingernails skimming the tops of her knees before retreating back to her toes. His touch is light and gentle, like she’s made of glass. Like they’re both made of glass, she corrects herself, like they’ll both shatter if he bumps against her too hard. 

She shifts with impatience when he spends too much time rubbing her feet, which would be great if they hadn’t been together in months now. He takes her cues, like he always does, wordlessly urging her to lift her hips as he unbuttons her jeans and slides them off with her underwear. There is a warm, nervous weight in his eyes as he kisses his way up the inside of her thighs, blunt nails tracing aimless shapes in their paths. Well, aimless Sumerian characters, if she knows her Librarian, and she does. 

“You know,” he begins between kisses, his voice less shaky, as if he has already found some sort of peace just being alone with her. “I never properly proposed, did I?” His voice is a strange, teasing sort of serious as he kneels before her. For a moment, she wants to laugh at how ridiculous they must look: he, fully dressed except his jacket, and her, completely naked with the exception of her bra. Which Flynn is making quick work of at the moment. 

“And you’re not going to now,” she deadpans. 

“Mmm,” he hums, pushing her to lie back as he presses open-mouthed kisses to her hip bones. “How would you stop me?”

She sits up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow at him. “You really want to explain this situation to my parents?” She asks, and Flynn’s flirty coolness immediately turns into stammering horror. “That’s what I thought,” she says, giggling. “You should see the look on your face!” 

Flynn gapes at her for a second before he pulls himself together, giving her a mischievous smirk. “You’re gonna pay for that, Guardian,” he warns. And he’s absolutely right, because moments later, his tongue and fingers are inside her and she’s falling back onto the bed, boneless. 

His touch is hesitant, delicate - unfamiliar, as Flynn usually dives in headfirst. Still he manages to make her come twice, his hands often coming up to grasp her breasts and tweak her nipples, his eyes dark every time he looks up to check on her. He’s shockingly quiet and focused, not once climbing over her to kiss her like he usually does, though he does moan into her when she clenches around his fingers. He stays kneeling between her legs, so careful and methodical that his week-old scruff barely scratches the soft skin of her inner thighs. 

After twenty minutes of this, of a complete lack of reciprocation on her side as he tips her over the edge twice, she goes from euphoric and comfortable to concerned and anxious. 

Part of her loves this novel gentleness, the reverence and focus with which he is touching her, but enough is enough. He’s practically vibrating with tension. The frantic look in his eyes that she had seen the moment she walked into the lab is not at all calmed by this slow exploration of her body. Her legs are already shaking from two orgasms; she’s not going to last much longer for anything…  _ more _ he wants to do to her, and she knows that he’s not either. “I’m not going to break,” she tells him, half-orders him. 

“Eve…” he whispers back. “I don’t think I can-”

“You can,” she retorts, and he shrinks back. “You  _ can. _ ” She reaches up to hover her hands over his cheekbones, trembling with the effort not to touch him. She needs to change tactics. If he can’t take what he needs, maybe he’ll give her what she is beginning to realize  _ she _ needs. 

“I thought you left me.” The words break out of her, and then it all spills out in a waterfall of confessions. He looks up at her, and she can tell that she has his full attention from the way he tilts his head to the left. “You were there, holding my hand - finally trusting the team - and then you were gone.” She swallows back tears, meeting his eyes with a fierceness that she doesn’t feel. “I wasn’t in a good place… after,” she admits, and he looks stricken, pushing up to kneel over her, one knee between her legs and the other outside at her right hip. All to raise his hand and cup her face. “I kept replaying everything - wondering what I did wrong - wondering-”

“You did nothing,” he interrupts, the hesitation in his eyes turning into an intensity that makes her breath hitch in her throat. “You’re - you’ve always been so perfect and deserving and wonderful - and I’m terrified that one day, I’ll wake up and -” He stumbles and trails off, fear and yearning warring for dominance in his expression.

Her heart breaks for this insecure part of the man she loves; Flynn so very rarely lets his fears bubble to the surface so directly. She almost feels like she’s taking advantage of how vulnerable he is right now, so she stops questioning. They have plenty of time to talk, and she doesn’t think that’s what he needs right now anyway. His thumb begins to stroke her cheek, and she looks him dead in the eye. “You promised me that you would never leave me or the Library again,” she says, and he nods frantically. “Prove it,” she challenges. “Show me.” 

Something shifts in the way he holds himself above her. From the look in his eyes, she has finally gotten it right. 

He sits up fully, unbuttoning his shirt and waistcoat enough so that he can easily shrug them off and onto the floor. His belt and pants are next, his eyes hot and dark on her. “Hands on the headboard,” he tells her as he disrobes above her, and she complies, reaching up to grasp the iron bars over her head. They are cold to the touch, and it centers her. She can do this. Flynn’s gaze stays on her, drifting down to her chest as she stretches. “My memories didn’t do you justice,” he breathes, pulling off his boxers and kneeling over her. 

“You thought of me, like this, there?” She asks, somewhat curious and also trying to distract herself from her nerves. 

“You were all I thought about during the… treatment,” he replies lowly. “The others - I love the others, but you and the Library were the only things strong enough to hold me together.”

With that, he leans down, hands braced on either side of her shoulders, burying his mouth in the gap between her shoulder and neck. He knows what she likes, knows every inch of her body, and instantly finds the spot on her collarbone that makes her gasp and writhe. 

“Flynn,” she breathes, and she can’t help it, one of her hands leaves the headboard so she can run her fingers through his mussed hair. 

He tenses when he feels her touch, stopping and pulling himself up to meet her eyes. She whimpers at the loss of his heat. “You know how clever I am, Guardian,” he begins, the casual lilt of his tone belied by the way he watches her, like he could devour her. “How creative,” he continues, taking her hand in his and pressing it down over her head. He then moves it to the headboard, curling both their hands around the iron, squeezing her hand and the bar meaningfully. “Don’t make me  _ make _ you keep your hands to yourself” - he leans down, his breath hot on the shell of her ear - “because you know very well that I can,” he warns, taking his hand away. 

The sturdiness in his tone, the command - she wasn’t sure she would like it, but it makes her breathless. There is a part of her that bites back in sarcasm, in stubbornness. They both know she’s stronger than him; he can’t make her do anything that she doesn’t want to do. But something in his tone, the way his body covers hers and the surety with which his hands caress her body, makes her acquiesce. Makes her speechless. So she nods, unable to give any verbal assurances, and he breaks free for a moment to give her a concerned look. She gives him a more serious, slow nod, and his gaze turns desirous once more. 

He kisses his way up her body a second time, but there is now a purposeness to it. He spends quite a few minutes on her breasts alone, licking and sucking as his right hand reaches down to rub her clit. 

It’s been about fifteen minutes since her last orgasm, and the acute part of the soreness has faded. When his fingers encounter just how much more wet she’s gotten, he gasps, and his knees give out. He falls half on top of her, his legs on either side of her left leg, his cock hard and heavy against her inner thigh. His body bucks against her once before he regains control, pulling back slightly. He shifts so he can slip his fingers inside her, and she arches in his arms. “God,” he murmurs, awed. “You’re so perfect - so ready for me. Two isn’t enough, is it, honey?” He asks, the heat in his tone sending shivers down her spine, and she doesn’t know whether he’s referring to the number of fingers he has inside her or the number of orgasms she’s had, so she just shakes her head. He pulls his fingers out, teasing along her slit until her knuckles are white from holding onto the headboard so tightly. Once she’s on the edge, he pushes back in, dark eyes moving over her face as he takes in every nuance of her reaction. “I could do this all night, you know,” he adds, pressing dry, innocent kisses along her shoulder as his clever fingers twist and push inside her, stretching her. She knows the dichotomy between what his lips and hands are doing is driving him wild as he mouths promises against her skin. “Every night for the rest of our  _ very _ long lives, and it wouldn’t be enough.” 

He slips another finger in, sending shockwaves up her spine, and she barely stops herself from reaching for him. He catches the aborted movement, and a wicked smirk climbs across his face. He clicks his tongue at her as he shakes his head. “Mmm, remember the rules,  _ Eve, _ ” he reminds her, curling his fingers inside her, his eyes intent on her face as she desperately tries to stay still. The way he says her name, low and raspy, should be a sin. His gaze drifts down so he can watch his fingers slide in and out of her for a long moment before he looks back up, deciding to continue getting her off with his surprisingly effective babbling. “West Point didn’t do a very good job teaching you self-control, now did they?” He asks smugly. 

Okay, maybe not so effective.

Despite the way she is sprawled out for him, Eve is still Eve, and she rolls her eyes. “Neither did your twenty-two degrees, if the way you’re holding your lower half away from me is any indication,” she retorts, the final word ending in a gasp as he twists his fingers exactly the way he knows she likes it. 

“Careful what you wish for,” he warns, pulling his fingers out of her, grinning when she whimpers. She watches as he brings his fingers to his mouth, then, as if just remembering his current sensory predicament, offers them up to her. “You taste so good, it just might kill me,” he teases, a spark in his eye that is much more typical-Flynn than anything he’s done in the past week. It gives her hope. 

He brings his fingers closer to her face, waiting for her approval. She nods, and he slips his index finger past her lips, eyes rolling back in his head when her tongue wraps around it. He moves it slowly, in and out, and she can feel his hips make little circles against her thigh in time with his hand. She closes her eyes against the sensation. 

When his fingers are all clean, her eyes flutter open. He looks absolutely wrecked, eyes trained on her mouth, his own hanging open and his face slack with pleasure. It sends her heart pounding as her gaze flits down; she gasps when she sees just how hard he is. 

“ _ Flynn _ ,” she breathes, nothing else. He knows what she wants, and she shuts her eyes again, expecting to feel his body line up with hers in several seconds.

When nothing comes, she looks up at him, frustrated. “Flynn-”

He leans over her, having moved his hips back again, holding himself away. His calves are tangled with hers, but that’s their only point of contact, and it’s starting to drive her crazy.

“Yes, my love?” He says, lowering himself to brush his nose against hers with a fond nudge. He grasps her chin with his hand, the same one with fingers wet from her mouth. It would make her laugh if she weren’t so frustrated. “Use your words.”

She glares at him. “If you’re not inside me in the next ten seconds, I’ll make you marry me the non-Library way before you can go around calling me your wife,” she threatens, letting her own smug smile spread around her face. She is a skilled NATO negotiator slash immortal Guardian. Whether she’s in control or not, she knows how to win.

Sure enough, Flynn swears and reaches down immediately to guide himself into her. He enters her in one swift thrust, faster and harder than she’s used to. The slight discomfort, however, is nothing compared to how good it feels to finally be joined with him again. He clearly feels the same, his mouth falling open as he bottoms out in her; she can feel his cock twitching inside her. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he swears again, completely still above her as he catches his breath. Usually his eyes fall shut during sex, but this time, he just studies her with an intensity that borders on too much. “Eve, you feel like heaven,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss her.

She hums in response, opening her mouth under his. She lets him in first, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as his hips stutter once against hers. “Flynn,” she exhales when he comes up for air. “Flynn,  _ please _ .”

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he swears, mouthing against her neck as he begins to thrust up into her. Her eyes roll back in her head, and her fingers clench and spasm around the headboard. It doesn’t escape his attention. “Don’t. Let. Go,” he instructs, punctuating each word with a thrust. 

For a moment, there is silence between them, only moans and gasps and the squeaking of the bed as he pounds into her, scrambling for enough leverage to satisfy some mental pacing standard he has set. But it’s Flynn, and he can’t stay silent for long. 

“You were the first bright thing in a world of gray,” he whispers against her neck, thrusts slowing as he presses kisses all over her face, smiling when she can’t help but giggle. “Eve, you were so beautiful - you were everything. You  _ are  _ everything.” He kisses her properly then, moving his hand to caress her breast as he rocks into her. Her giggles fade back into moans as she kisses him back, licking into his mouth easily and sloppily, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Yellow and brilliant and god, your smile,” he babbles against her lips. She feels a drop of something hit her cheek, and she doesn’t know if it’s sweat or tears. “Your smile,” he repeats, like he can’t believe she’s here, that he gets to see her smile every day, groaning as she shifts her calves against him. He reaches down, hiking her leg over the back of his thigh and pushing deeper into her.

“Even when I didn’t know you, I knew you,” she promises, arms aching with the desire to wrap around him. He presses his forehead to hers.

“Even when I didn’t know you,” he replies, pulling back only just, and yes, there are the tears, sliding down his cheeks as he cages her in his embrace, “I loved you.” 

It’s too much. His words - he is too much. “ _ Flynn _ ,” she moans. “I want to touch you.”

He shakes above her. “I spent so much time in that other world - _ fuck, that’s it, honey - _ imagining what it would be like to touch the woman in the pretty green dress,” he pants, stilling his movements to focus on speaking. She whines in frustration, but she can’t deny what his words are doing to her either. “To feel her - to fill her up, just like this. To breathe the same air as her.  _ Eve _ . When I saw you, held your hand, you drove all my doubts away. I thought I would break in half with the joy of it.” He pauses. “I need you, Eve. Forever and always.” His eyes go dark, pained, and he moves his hand to sift through her hair, the strands lying tangled across the sheets and pillows. “You can’t leave me,” he half-begs, his gaze suddenly far away. She can only guess what he’s imagining; they’ve both been hurt and lost so many times - there are endless tragedies to choose from. “I won’t - you can’t, please -” 

“Flynn,” she says, but it’s all she needs to say to bring him back to her.

He takes a deep breath, reaching up to press a hand over hers on the headboard. “Hold me,” he requests. “I think I - I think it’s okay.”

For a second, she just gapes at him. “Are you sure?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

And that’s all it takes.

She releases the bars, one hand slipping from his cheek to his hair as she leads his lips to hers. The other he guides to wrap around his back, collapsing him further against her, spurring him to move. 

And he does, resuming his thrusts against her, grunting as he moves back to her neck to focus on the movement of his hips. She’s not sure how her touch is affecting him, so she watches him carefully for a long moment until she is satisfied that he’s managing. His thrusts are getting harder and quicker, and she moves both of her hands to his ass, pushing and pulling to help him along. She’s so wrapped up in him, so close, that she nearly misses the words he is pressing into her skin. 

“I’m close - Eve, please -  _ God,  _ honey, you feel so good - you’re so tight - that’s it, just let me -  _ fuck _ , let me make you come again.” He exhales hard, holding her shoulders down so he can thrust up into her harder. “I need - I need-”

“What?” She breathes, removing one hand to pull his gaze to hers. “I’ll give you what you need.”

She can see it in his raw, honest gaze, his usual response: _You do. You already do._ It warms her. “Tell me something,” he requests instead, rising up on his left elbow so he can reach down to finger her clit again. 

“I’m not a mind-reader,” she grunts back.

“No,” he whispers, eyes dark on hers. His finger slips against where they are joined, and the fire in his eyes grows impossibly brighter when she shudders in response. “No, Eve, you’re my Guardian,” he says, like it’s even better.

And it is. He watches her silently, multitasking as his elbow presses her thigh down until it’s almost flat against the mattress, sighing as he slides even deeper. She exhales. Oh.  _ Oh _ . “I love you,” she tells him, injecting the words with as much feeling as she can. 

His hips stutter once in their rhythm before he finds a familiar speed; she knows exactly how close he is. “How long?” He pants, driving into her with a strength that he shouldn’t possess after days of not sleeping. When she doesn't reply, too busy moaning as he thrusts harder and harder, he repeats himself. “ _ How long _ ?” He demands, and with anyone else she would hate it, even the facsimile of a command, but after everything they’ve been through, she knows that desperation. To know what she’s thinking. To have some sort of promise she knows - that he knows - she’ll have to break if the job demands it. She knows it because she feels it too.

“Always and forever,” she swears on a whim, remembering the look on his face when he swore the same. 

And she’s right, that’s what he is waiting for. He rubs at her clit more furiously, and when she breaks apart for the third time seconds later, he follows her over the edge with a shout of her name, pressing their hips together so tightly as he comes that she’s sure they’ll both have bruises in the morning.

She swears she blacks out for a second, which has happened before in this very situation. But instead of coming back to him rolling off of her, a grin on his face as he proudly watches her float back to earth, he stays on top of her. She can feel him soften inside her, but he doesn’t pull away. Concerned that sex has made everything worse, she reaches up, sliding her hands into his hair. He winces, but he lets her.

“Flynn?” She asks softly, eyes flitting across his face. He visibly swallows, hands clenching into fists on either side of her head. He uncurls his right slightly, running his index finger down the length of her bandaged upper arm. “Flynn,” she repeats, gently, “what’s wrong?”

As soon as those words leave her lips, his face crumples, the tears that had fallen now coming in full force. She whispers his name again, a deep understanding taking the place of her questions. He falls against her, shoving his arms underneath her and gathering her to him until she arches against him. Until every part of their bodies are connected, and he does not flinch away. “Eve,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with tears. “Eve, I couldn’t feel - coming back, it was so much. Even you. Us, here, now - it helps, but it still hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her heart aching as she scoots them both up against the headboard. In the process, he slips out of her, and they both sigh at the loss, ignoring the gush of wetness that follows. There will be time for cleaning up later. “I’ve seen this before,” she admits. “We’ll help you, any way you need. It gets better, I promise.”

He wraps himself around her tighter as she settles down with him; he presses his forehead against her clavicle, and she rubs his temple with her free hand, willing him to relax a little. “You make me better.” His voice shakes, but there is a certainty to it that brings a smile to her face. That’s more like the Flynn she’s used to. “My mom,” he begins, stopping, taking a deep breath before starting again. “My mom told me that… the most important things can’t be learned up here,” he quotes, tapping her temple.

Eve gives him a sad smile. “She sounds very wise.”

He laughs wetly against her skin. “She would’ve loved you, but that’s not the point,” he says, his voice strengthening as he remembers his mom. “She said the most important things are felt - here.” He presses his palm over her heart, feeling the steady thump, taking her own hand and pressing it over his. “I didn’t - I couldn’t know how right she was until I met you. And the way I feel about you, Eve - I love you so much there’s no space left in me to love you any more, but somehow I do. More, I mean, every day. It’s too big - too heavy. So it hurts.”

Eve takes her hand from his heart so she can pull him closer. “I know exactly what you mean,” she says quietly, earnestly, and he sighs in her arms. She holds him in silence for another few minutes until he settles down, rubbing his head against her like a languid cat. “We can talk more tomorrow,” she says into the quiet air. “You must be tired.” 

“M’fine,” he says, snuggling somehow closer to her.

“Mmhm,” she replies, doubtful. “Sure you are, my darling. Do you want me to touch you tonight? Big spoon or little?”

He rolls over, facing away from her and pulling her arms around him in the same movement, wordlessly answering her question. She scoots up behind him, and right when she’s finally comfortable, he turns his head so he can meet her gaze. “Don’t think I forgot you’re gonna let me call you my wife now,  _ wife _ ,” he says sleepily, trying to wink at her. Exhausted as he is, it comes off as more of a long, exaggerated blink.

She doesn’t reply, instead pressing a kiss to his cheek, and he sighs with a joyful sort of relief. “Round two in the morning?” He murmurs, dropping off. “Love you on top…”

“Sleep, Librarian.”

“ _ Husband. _ ”

“Tethering partner.”

“Hmph.”

And with that, he’s dead to the world. Tomorrow, she’ll have to make him eat - discuss therapy. There’s no telling how bad he truly had it in Nicole’s universe. And he’ll fight her, argue and equivocate, but he’s Flynn Carsen. That’s just how he operates. 

For now, she’ll bask in the presence of the man she’s spending forever and always with, and that will be enough to get them through the night.

**Author's Note:**

> whelp. uh. 
> 
> hopefully flynn came off right in this? i mean, that boy gives off serious bottom vibes but also is more smooth and in control than most fics give him credit for? idk, just a personal opinion. i also headcanon eve's dominant energy comes a lot from sexism in the military, so i don't think she'd mind being taken care of as long as she trusts the person. and she trusts flynn. 
> 
> also i'm sorry flynn was so mean to ezekiel!! he apologized i swear, they worked it out.


End file.
